177. Demon Food (IV) (Patreon)

Hours passed. Steadily his Embryonic Essence ticked upward—past the 70% marker, then the 80%, then the 90%… his Bloodline Essence, too, crept closer and closer to 1.0. The Base Form.

He burned with the egg’s vital qi. And his new body emerged.

A scaly tail emerged, thick and powerful, with a wicked spike at the end. It was a muscular thing, dextrous as a serpent. The sort of tail that might wield its own staff if he so chose—the sort he could use to dangle or swing about.

Harder thicker scales coated his body, hiding his vital points. His chest got two thick plates. Scales flowed up his forearms, down his shins like greaves, and a smattering guarded his neck. Like the flakes of night embedded in his skin.

Claws lined his fingers. He retracted them, then let them out. Smooth. Claws like lions’ teeth lined his new feet. It was like equipping himself with a host of mini-Javelins. With these alone he could be a machine of destruction.

But these were only his exteriors. Go one level deeper and he was made anew too. He was a solid footspan or two taller, sure, but most of his growth was width. Tight cords of muscle ran down his arms and legs like pythons. He clenched a fist, fascinated. A block of reinforced iron would’ve been crushed to dust in that grasp. No longer was he that lithe, sly figure! Now he had a soldier’s body; now he had some bulk to him.

Go even farther, though, and the most fascinating new trait of his new physique stirred within him. His lungs lay dormant within, and they were monstrous organs indeed. One breath with these and he wouldn’t need air for a day! But that was the least of its powers…

As a test he poked his head above the egg’s liquid and breathed in. Then he flexed something in his chest.

Spots of crimson shone through the skin there. The liquid started to boil, hissing with steam. He let it cool off, grinning.

Dragon’s breath!

It was any dragon’s signature Technique. For the Torchdragon it meant a deluge of fire and smog, often intertwined, supercharged with the Laws of Fire and Darkness. It was, in a way, what his old Galactic Inferno Technique had been trying to mimic. A useful tool, for as long as it lasted! But he could safely retire it now.

For this was the difference between a slingshot and a cannonball. These were lungs tailor-made for the task.

Oh, he itched to test it out! Not here. Not now. Soon, though…

***

[Embryonic Essence: Torchdragon] 98% -> 100%

[Bloodline Quantity] 0.97 -> 1.0

Oh?!

[Species Change!]

[Human -> Dragonoid]

Yes!

Now Embryonic Essence, too, could go. All of his Bloodline could be condensed into one metric.

[Dragonoid: Base Form]

[Bloodline Quantity] 1.0

And it was done. He let himself lie there in the liquid, eyes closed, taking a moment to bask. Ahh… The feeling of aliveness, of rebirth! Like a salve to his soul, seeping warm through every fiber of his being.

[Star Realm: Dwarf] 23% -> 26%

[Darkness Law Saturation] 34% -> 41%

[Darkness Law Grade] Very Low

[Fire Planet: Meteor] 19% -> 23%

[Fire Law Saturation] 29% -> 35%

[Fire Law Grade] Very Low

But the egg’s nutritious qi was fast vanishing. He’d absorbed the bulk of it by now, and the joy was simply in lying in its warmth. No fleeing, no screaming, no battling, no struggle… floating amid a lake of warm feeling, swaddled in it… he really could stay here a while. A long, long while…

Alas. No.

His eyes shot open. He kicked gently. He sprung out of the egg like a grasshopper, cracked his head against the ceiling, bounced off it and rammed hard into the floor. A cloud of red dust bloomed around him.

He hissed. Not in pain, but out of habit. He blinked. The air wasn’t knocked out of him. There wasn’t any pain at all! Gingerly he picked himself up, moving with exaggerated slowness. He felt like a little boy taking a prized stallion for a joyride. Except the stallion was his own body. It made for a distinctly weird feeling. A flicker of will and his tail carved a shrieking arc through the air, scythed into the craggy wall.

There would be no resting now. This was a run, after all! There was only time for rest—not recovery, but true rest—was after the job was done. Until then…

Stronger. Higher. Faster.

He licked his lips. What now? A few ways to progress were open to him. Law, qi, and Bloodline. Law would be the most painstaking. There were only two means to further that: meditating in Law-dense areas, and imbibing certain Law-filled treasures. Like Torchdragon eggs. The Dao Fruit of the Swamp of the Damned, too, would do wonders for his Law comprehensions! It wasn’t so far from here, now he thought about it…

Another aspect he could progress was qi. A little easier and faster to power-up than Law, but the journey was the longest of them all. Cultivation and treasures would do the trick.

In theory, though, Bloodline was the hardest of the three to come by! A true legendary Spirit Beast—and he could now count himself as one—usually gained about the same amount of Bloodline Essence as its base form year-on-year simply by existing in the Upper Realms. It was how they matured as they aged. It took nine years here to hit First Form. Eighty-one to hit Second. True phoenixes, dragons, white tigers, and all the other apex Beasts only hit adulthood around Third Form. That was—729 years.

Far too long a wait for his taste! But it could be shortened by breaking a few taboos. Cannibalism was a popular one, here in Hell. Which was rather convenient.

He stood in a snug little cavern of rust-red rock. The pool of magma was the only way in and out. The only other thing here was the Torchdragon nest, and his egg wasn’t the only one.

Before him, three other eggs snuggled against each other, slick with light. He cackled.

It wasn’t every day he could progress Bloodline, qi, and Law all at once! If only Torchdragon eggs weren’t so damned rare. Oh, he’d take his time with these. Rubbing his hands gleefully, he advanced on them.

He was done being some bottom-feeder! Soon—very soon—true godhood would be within his grasp! With this, no longer would these Hell beasts use him as target practice. No longer would he spend his days running and hiding like vermin! A bold new life was quickly coming into being before his very eyes—

And vanished quick as it’d come. His face went slack with horror.

For as he reached out to snag an egg, a feeling struck him.

It came from deep in his gut, the font of his Bloodline stores. Resonance! And it wasn’t from the eggs. No—it came from outside these cavern walls. A Resonance from a real, living, breathing Torchdragon.

What else could it be but the mother? A First Form Torchdragon—had to be! Perhaps even higher…

And it was coming closer.

FUCK!

He ran to the eggs and hid for dear life. He snuggled into them, sat perfectly still. I’m an egg!

His Bloodline signature would—he dearly hoped—be so muddled and blended with the rest there was no telling the difference.

Still the Resonance drew closer. Oh, Hells…

Did the creature suspect something? Or was it simply doing a check-up? Would it poke its massive head through that pool, see him crouching beside her eggs, one shell broken, and unleash a god’s fury on his sorry hide?

He crouched there, eyes wide, and waited.

And still the Resonance crept in. It couldn’t be more than fifty strides away now. Forty… thirty… it grew stronger all the while, and he felt his heart slowly sinking down his chest.

Fuck.

Twenty. He could picture its massive head snaking up the magma tunnel. Could picture its cruel yellow eyes gleaming in the gloom. Ten paces now. What was there to do? Worst came to worst he’d have to try the shadow-realm. He’d be torn apart by the wraiths within in seconds—but it was  that or sit here, and be made a husk of charred meat!

He was struck then by the unfairness of it all. So close! Why did the blasted creature have to check on its brood now, of all times?! He hadn’t even gotten to test out his new body yet!

The only thing to do was to sit, crouched behind the eggs, breath held.

The Resonance went up through the tunnel. It passed easily through the blood wards.

Then it rose up from the bubbling pool of magma, and landed on the floor in a crouch.

Dorian didn’t understand what he was seeing. This was no Torchdragon. Furry tail, humanoid figure, wry grin, silver headband, a glint of humor in its eyes… this—this was that girl! The monkey-girl with the frying pan he’d seen fleeing across the Hellish plains! Her giant leathery backpack was still strapped to her back, laden with spoons and ladles, packed to the point of bursting.

Somehow her aura felt exactly the same as any baby Torchdragon’s. It was so good his Resonance couldn’t tell them apart. It was so good it’d fooled the Torchdragon’s blood wards!

Even as a Godking I wouldn’t have known of a way to do that! He was speechless. What in Fate’s name is this girl?!

“Phew!” She gasped. Her face was beaded with sweat. She set down the backpack, plopped down on her butt, and wiped her face. “Thought I wasn’t gonna make it for a second there… Magma. Really godsdamned hot! Who knew?”

Then she caught sight of the eggs, and stilled. Her eyes went wide. Her smile split her face. Dorian knew that look. It could’ve been transplanted from his own face minutes prior. Pure, mesmerized desire. She licked her lips, drooling a little.

“Ooh….”

A red-and-yellow frying pan materialized at her fingertips. “I knew I smelled Torchdragon eggs!”

Brandishing her pan, she came closer.

Dorian ducked back behind a nearby egg—thank Heavens these things were so huge—and wondered just what the hells was happening.

And, more pressing—what the hells was he supposed to do about it?